Check Your Post: A Cautionary Tale
by Galaxy-Defending-Hopeful
Summary: Harry doesn't always remember to check the name on his post before he opens it. Dougie doesn't always tell the truth to the postman. Dougie also happens to have a very strong sexual appetite. Pudd, implied Flones, Junes friendship, Floynter friendship, naughtiness, mild swearing. Written especially for kbeto!


**You have kbeto to blame for this cheeky little one! He's a bad influence on me, I swear. But yes. Pudd, implied Flones, naughtiness.**

* * *

"Hey, Tom!" Dougie leant out of his door as soon as he saw the postman approach. Ever since Dougie had moved into the flats when he was eighteen, Tom had been the postman, and through Dougie's various parcels (including one with 'Congrats on passing the chlamydia screening!' scrawled on the side in sharpie) the two had struck up a little friendship.

"What's up, mate?" Tom asked, turning to face the younger man.

"Tomorrow I'm going to have a parcel – it'll be black, about twenty centimetres long and it might have a little gold heart symbol embossed on the corner of the box. Can you deliver it to number twelve instead of mine? I'm going to be, um, unavailable."

Tom nodded with a grin. "What is it this time, Dougie? A thousand watermelon flavoured condoms? A box of 500 live ladybugs? A gallon of peach scented lube? God, I hope it's not the lube again, I couldn't get the smell out of my trousers for days..."

"Hey, that was one time!" Dougie laughed. "And no, since I broke up with Matt, it's something to keep me _occupied_..."

Tom clamped his hands over his ears. "I'm not listening!"

Dougie laughed. "Don't worry, dude. You won't get leaked on again, and it's nothing alive like those freaking ladybugs that can escape..."

"I'll be sure to deliver it to twelve, you filthy bastard."

As Tom walked away, Dougie didn't quite have enough heart to tell him that the stain from the broken bottle of lube the month previously was still on the back of his trousers.

* * *

Harry and Danny were old friends from school, boys whom had known each other since they were eleven. They'd even taken their gap year together – they'd gone to LA and lived there for a year, Danny playing his guitar in bars and seedy clubs for money while Harry got a little job as a cricket teacher at one of the sporting centres on the edges of the place. Now, aged twenty one, they were back in the UK together. They'd decided to move to a flat in London together because it was cheaper and easier than moving separately.

"Hey, I've got a parcel to be delivered here." the postman (who Danny had already hooked up with and subsequently never shut up about) said one bright, cold morning about a month after they'd moved in. The packaging seemed unfamiliar to Harry, but he had bought a few things recently, so maybe the person who had packaged it was just particularly artistic.

"Thanks, mate. Hey, are you coming for Dan tonight?"

The postman nodded with a sly grin. "Yeah, we've got plans for tonight...you might need those earplugs that you bought tonight..."

Harry blushed but laughed. "I'll see you later then, mate."

The door was closed. Harry placed the envelopes onto the kitchen table before picking up the parcel and opening it deftly with one swoop of his parcel-scissors. He had barely lifted the lid, however, before slamming it back down. Was that...lifting it again, he gingerly looked straight into the box. It _was._ He hadn't ordered that...maybe Danny had? Quickly, he glanced at the label.

_Dougie Poynter_

_14 Cherrygrove Complex_

"What's in the parcel?" Danny suddenly asked from behind him.

"It's been delivered to the wrong house." Harry faintly replied. His tone of voice intrigued Danny, who rolled off of the top of the sofa where he had been lying with a bump to the floor and then slid over to the table, before standing up. Snatching the lid from the box, he suddenly burst out laughing. Inside the black box was an average, run-of-the-mill...dildo.

"Did'ya..." Danny started, but could barely get the words out without choking. "Who's is it?"

"The guy who lives next door." Harry replied, head in hands.

"You've gotta take it to 'im." Danny cawed. "You've fancied him forever, anyway..."

* * *

It took four shots of whiskey, three cups of coffee, a wrestling match and approximately six and a half custard doughnuts for Harry to agree to take the parcel back to its rightful owner.

"But he'll see it's open...he'll know that I've seen it!" agonised Harry, uncomfortably shifting the box in his hands. Danny chuckled.

"From what Tom's told me in between rounds, the guy is completely sex-obsessed anyway. I think he'll just be glad to get his hands on it!"

Swallowing, Harry picked up and marched purposefully out of the door, slamming it behind him before knocking abruptly on the guy's door. After a moment, it opened. Harry had never been this close to the guy before, and he was surprised by how attractive he was. His eyes weren't the stereotypical sapphire blue, nor were they aquamarine or any of those descriptions. They were a subtle blend of many shades of blue, shifting and changing in the flickering yellow light from the hallway.

"Tom accidentally dropped your parcel off at mine." Harry finally managed to spit out. "I opened it, I'm sorry-"

"Don't worry dude – I asked him to deliver it to you. I was 'unavailable' that morning, so I guessed the cute boy with the muscles could look after it for me." Dougie lazily replied, leaning against the door frame. Harry's eyes opened a little wider. "What's your name, anyway? I see you around all the time but I've just had to refer to you as the 'sex god next door'."

"I'm Harry, err, Harry Judd."

For once in Harry's twenty one and a half years, he was shocked to silence.

"Keep an eye on the post, Harry, err, Harry Judd. You never know what'll arrive in it."

The door slowly closed, with Dougie's eyes never leaving Harry, and Harry had a strange feeling that he had just been seduced.

* * *

"Dude, he tot'lly wants ya." Danny told him with a grin. "He asked for Tom to deliver it to ya!"

Harry blushed. "It was just so that it didn't get sent to the parcel collection point – he wasn't in this morning!"

"Really?" Danny asked sceptically, taking a long sip from his mug of tea. "So why'dya think we could hear music from his flat all morning?"

"Well, maybe he was just busy then!" Harry defensively replied. "It wasn't for any particular reason!"

"Yeah, sure it wasn't." Danny said, rolling his eyes. Really, for Harry's extremely expensive education, he was an idiot sometimes, and that was saying something coming from Danny.

"It wasn't!"

"Whatever you say, mate."

Secretly, Harry knew perfectly well that Danny was right. He just didn't particularly want Danny to see his boner.

* * *

Four days later, a more familiar black box arrived yet again at Danny and Harry's flat.

"I think this is for Dougie, mate." Harry told Tom.

"It's addressed to you, dude. Look." Tom replied, pointing at the label.

_Harry, err, Harry Judd_

_12 Cherrygrove Complex_

There was no doubt who it was from.

Later that night, it was the buyer of the present who pressed it into Harry, coated in peach scented lube.

"We can save the condoms for later." Dougie whispered into Harry's ear through the thickness of the air and the loudness of his moans. On the bedside table sat a huge box of watermelon flavoured condoms, with only a few missing.

It would be a long night.


End file.
